Seven Books for Seven Lovers

by Molly Harper, Stephanie Haefner, Liora Blake, Gabra Zackman, Andrea Laurence, Colette Auclair

  Hold off the wedding.

  Holding off is not an option. Holding off means pushing back starting a family. Ren’s already pregnant and she’s almost thirty! I’m almost thirty.

  I can feel the tears building on my lower lids, threatening to ruin my makeup. Shit.

  Bradley’s head tilts. “Kenz, hon, it’ll be okay.” He stands and walks around his desk so he’s directly in front of me. One hand lifts my chin. “I’m sure you’ll pull off the account, you always do. Either way, we’ll be fine.” His voice is reassuring, although I can still see the worry around his eyes.

  “Yeah, okay. We’ll be fine.” Only this time fine stands for F**ked In Nasty Economy. I force a small smile. “I, um . . . just need a minute. I’ll see ya in there.”

  How can we be so busy and yet be in financial trouble? It doesn’t add up. My job is on the line?

  “Margaritaville tonight?” Tonya calls out as I pass by her office.

  Backtracking, I peek inside. Ellie’s seated in the side chair, a cup of coffee in her hands. Tonya will keep her job. She’s in sales, works off commission. But Ellie’s a programmer, so I’m not sure she’s safe.

  I give a closed-mouth smile and lean on the door. A drink with the girls does sound good. “Yeah, count me in.”

  “So, did your family go crazy over wedding details yesterday?” Ellie asks and takes a sip of coffee. Her words throw unintentional salt in the open wound.

  “Er . . . we never really got around to it. Renson’s preggo.”

  “Oh my God, really?” Ellie’s blue eyes widen with a snort-laugh. “Can you imagine all the crapola she’s going to have? Designer everything. She’s going to be Pregzilla.”

  Pregzilla, I like that.

  Tonya raises an eyebrow. “Whatever. It was bound to happen. That’s what married people do, right? Have babies. Besides, Kenzi’s next in line.”

  “Well, that’s the plan; as soon as we get through the wedding stuff, we start trying.” We need to get to the wedding first. The thought stabs at my heart. I don’t want to wait. I want to plan our wedding and start our family. I want to be Pregzilla. Well, not the zilla part.

  Tonya puts the cap back on her water and crinkles her nose. “Honey, it won’t happen if you wait too long. And your wedding plans? Yeah, they just took a backseat to the Renson mini-me. As soon as she starts showing, the entire fam will be in hyper baby mode.”

  “Bitch,” Ellie says to Tonya and narrows her eyes.

  “Yeah, that one’s deserved.” She lifts her chin and looks at me. “But Kenz knows it’s true, don’t ya, babe?”

  “Which part? About my family or you being a bitch?”

  “Both!” Ellie says laughing.

  Even though Tonya is competitive over everything, and I mean everything, she gets it. That’s why I tolerate her. But if I’m being honest, she’s always fallen somewhere between a friend and frenemy. I tap the door frame with my hand. “Meeting’s in five. I’ll see you in there.”

  THE CARRIAGE HOUSE IS TECHNICALLY Tonya’s account, but anytime there’s real money involved, Bradley and Clive basically take over. Two programmers are sitting across from Tonya at the conference table, discussing the functionality of the proposed website. Their jobs will probably be cut. My stomach sours.

  “Hi.” I nod, set my stuff down, then make sure all three of my concept boards are in place up front. Satisfied, I sit, leaning my forehead in my hand. I need to calm down.

  I keep hearing Bradley’s words, hold off the wedding. We haven’t even locked in any plans and they’re being taken away from me. And now my job? What about my bonus?

  “You good?” Tonya asks, nudging my shoulder.

  “Define good,” I say as the Facebook chat chimes on my phone. It’s Ellie. Silent mode. My eyes fall on the earlier chat message from Shane. I select it and hold it in front of Tonya for her to see, she’s going to flip.

  She squints at the screen then pops her eyes. “Oh my God! That’s Shane!” She turns to me, excited. “You’re talking with him again?”

  “Shh . . . No. No.” I look around to make sure Bradley’s not lurking in the hall. He and Clive should be waiting in the lobby to escort the client to our conference room. “He contacted me,” I say, then notice the programmers have taken an interest. “It’s nothing, old college friend me and Tonya both know.”

  Tonya blows out a breath and pulls my arm closer for a better look. “Pretty Woman?”

  “Don’t read it.” I yank it back. I just wanted her to see the photo.

  All at once, there’s a commotion of footsteps and voices. Clive’s escorting in the Carriage House team. We stand as they file through and Clive begins casual introductions. It’s like a jumbled reception line with people reaching this way and that, pumping hands and dropping names.

  At this stage, I’ve only worked with our team, and I’m not catching anyone’s name. My brain’s still foggy. Where’s Bradley? People are settling, taking seats. This is it. I’m up first. Arranging my notes, I take a sip of water then start toward the front to get things rolling.

  Clive raises a finger. “Kenzi, hold on. We’re still waiting on the owner of the Carriage House—” His head turns abruptly to the door. “Oh, there he is.”

  I whip around, catching sight of Bradley and—

  “Everyone, this is Mr. Shane Bennett.”

  I spit my water.

  I’m choking. Gagging. It’s caught in my throat. Oh my God. I’m hacking up a lung. Everyone turns to look at me as I hunch over the table in spasm. I raise a finger in the air to signal hold on. I can’t get it to stop.

  I turn and look toward the door. Shit. It is him . . . it is Shane. He’s watching me. I cover my mouth and wave my finger again, this time to excuse myself. I rush past him, hacking, to the restroom.

  Shane Bennett’s here.

  Well, he’s back there. I’m in the restroom. I clear my throat and splash some cold water on the back of my neck. This isn’t a coincidence. He must’ve known where I worked. He totally knew everything the whole time we chatted.

  Oh. My. God.

  I told him I had a big presentation to give. My mind races through the whole conversation. He’s the client. He’s the owner? Why didn’t he tell me? Why is he here?

  The bathroom door opens. It’s Tonya. She’s shaking her head, mouth hanging open. “Oh my God, right? Shane Bennett? Quite an exit, by the way, spray the clients with spittle and run out in a crazy coughing fit.” She laughs, checking her lipstick in the mirror.

  “You could’ve warned me.” My heart’s still thudding hard in my chest.

  Tonya’s eyes narrow as she looks at me in the reflection. “I would’ve, had I known. Clive and Bradley went to all the meetings; I only dealt with that big guy from marketing.” She spins around. “Look, boss-man sent me to retrieve your dying ass. Just take a deep breath and get it together. You got this, right?”

  “Yeah.” No. “Tell Clive I’ll, um, be right in,” I say and mess with my shirt collar in the mirror.

  She sizes me up in the reflection.

  My eyes meet hers. “What? I’m fine. Go. I’m right behind you.” I casually finger-comb my hair until she leaves.

  When the door shuts, I collapse, hands braced on the sink. Oh my God. Does Bradley know who he is? He can’t. Tonya didn’t even know. What the hell is he doing here? My mind scrambles trying to absorb it all. Shane Bennett’s the client. The account I need approved so I don’t lose my job, my bonus, or my wedding.

  I straighten and shake my head to get a grip. I need to pull it together. So what if I went all Bridget Jones when I saw him. This is for everything. The whole shebang. I’m not even sure what a shebang is, but I want all of it. So, screw this.

  Screw him.

  I start back toward the conference room, pumping my arms with determination, but pause right outside the door to steady my heart. I take a deep breath in . . . and soothing breath out. Again. Deep breath in and . . . hold . . . hold . . . hold, and release.
I exhale in a loud, raspy whoosh. I sound like a deranged Darth Vader. “I am your father,” I say and almost laugh. It’s either laugh or cry.

  “So, you’ve traded chick flicks for Star Wars?”

  It’s cry.

  I freeze and tightly close my eyes. Of course it would be him. Spinning, I face grown-up Shane holding a coffee and looking bemused.

  “Hello, Kensington.” The ens drags out a bit and the rest pops up crisp like a Pringle in his blended American Brit accent.

  I’m momentarily dazed by the sound of my name on his lips.

  “I wasn’t sure how long you’d be, so I . . .” He holds up his cup, eyes locked on mine.

  I give a forced smile. It feels plastic and strained. I can’t help but notice the changes in him. He’s older, filled out.

  A man.

  From the way his black V-neck clings across his chest I’d guess he still boxes, or at least works out. I bite my lip and try to think of something pithy and indifferent to say.

  The conference room door opens with a click. “Oh, good, she’s back. Now we can begin, again.” A noticeable exasperation colors Clive’s tone. He widens the door and motions for us to come in. “Kensington, if you would.” He points to the front.

  “Yes, right.” My stomach spirals.

  Bradley gives me a nod of encouragement. Tonya smirks and pushes my water bottle back as I pass. I narrow my eyes.

  “Right,” I say again and quickly glance at Shane, who’s now sitting in the back next to Clive. I turn to my design boards, remove the blank cover, and lean it against the wall.

  I can do this. I’m Lucy Kelson, Sandra Bullock’s character, cool and persuasive. “The Safia Agency has developed three complete conceptuals based on your company’s unique needs in the marketplace.” I pull the words from muscle memory.

  My heart jumps, catching Shane’s eyes briefly before looking away.

  “Each one focuses on a slightly different approach to reach the same goal.” My hands shake as I set the first example on the lip of the huge dry erase board, then the second, leaving the third on the easel, so all three are visible. I glance around the room at everyone except Shane. “Our first concept zeros in on—”

  “Can you step to the side for just a moment?” Shane asks, leaning out to see around me.

  “I’m sorry?” I look at him, then Clive, confused.

  Clive waves his hand to indicate I should move, so I do. Shane focuses on each board. He positions his hand under his chin as he considers the concepts. The room’s quiet. Everyone’s looking at Shane. This is crazy. This is not how it works. This wouldn’t happen to Lucy Kelson.

  I step forward. “I was just about to go through the plan for each—”

  “Yes, right. I understand. Each one has its own agenda.” His lips stretch into a hard line. “But it looks as though you weren’t given mine.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  Shane stands and walks up to the first board to take a closer look. I’m floored. This has never happened. The client listens, I give my spiel, and they pick one. There might be a few adjustments, but that’s how it’s done. Why is he up here? Clive shrugs when I give him a questioning look.

  “I’m afraid some things weren’t conveyed to you.” There’s a pause.

  What the hell is he talking about?

  He smiles. It’s his I’m-just-being-polite smile. I’ve seen it hundreds of times, except now it has faint creases on either side. I’m at a complete loss. Clive is tapping his pen.

  Shane continues, “The movie theater. It’s a restaurant and theater in one. Maybe the theater part wasn’t conveyed as being as important as the restaurant, Clive, but if this concept’s successful, we plan on opening multiple locations.”

  “A movie theater? Inside the restaurant?” I say incredulously. It just slips out.

  “It’s unexpected, right?” Shane gives me an inquiring look.

  I’d say this whole day is unexpected.

  “I want the focus on the theater, not just the dinner.” He nods to Clive and turns to the group. “We want to create an experience. Great food while you watch the best romantic comedies. It’s the ultimate date night.”

  Clive is now standing and nodding his head. “Sure. Kenzi can work with you on the specifics. Shouldn’t be a problem to add that in.”

  Shane doesn’t wait for me to respond. “We’ll be using well-known, classic movie moments as part of the brand and overall experience, like, say, Pretty Woman.”

  My stomach drops. I snap my eyes to him.

  “Oh, I love that movie, don’t you, Kenz?” Tonya smirks, then looks to one of the programmers. “The shopping scene is the best.”

  Oh my God.

  “Yes! Great. What other movies or scenes?”

  Shane spins around and motions for others to chime in. He’s completely taken over my presentation.

  Clive crosses his arms over his chest, eyebrows high. “I liked When Harry Met Sally.”

  “Say Anything’s a classic,” says Rand Peterson, the Carriage House marketing director.

  Tonya leans over the table so she can see him. “There’s always bad karaoke in those movies and they seem to meet up in really crazy ways.”

  “It’s called the meet-cute when that happens,” Shane adds.

  Tonya looks from Shane to me with a twisted grin. “I think it’s pretty cute.”

  I spear Tonya with a glare.

  Ignoring her, Shane says brightly, “We can list the top ten or so favorite scenes and movies and then incorporate them into the brand. Add in celebrity bios, movie trivia . . . What do you think?”

  The room fills with an excited babble. Apparently, everyone loves this idea.

  Suck-ups.

  Shane’s looking at me. Now everyone else is, too.

  “What do I think?” I think I’ve completely lost control of this pitch and my Lucy Kelson character. Instead of portraying her sharp and persuasive traits, I’m twisted up as badly as her bobcat pretzel. I look Shane straight in the eye. “Well, I’m not much of a romantic movie fan, but—”

  “Yes, you are,” Bradley says with confidence. “You love romantic comedies. You could probably recite all the lines.”

  I look from Benedict Bradley to Shane. So does everyone else. It’s like a tennis match.

  “Oh, forgot. You’re a Star Wars fan now, right?” Shane’s smiling, clearly enjoying himself.

  I really hate him.

  Clive walks to the front. “Why don’t we get an e-mail going with everyone’s top ten movie moments, then Mr. Bennett can narrow down which ones to use in the redesign?” His brows are arched expectantly. “Sound good, Kenzi?”

  I smile thinly. “Of course,” I say, knowing I just need to close this deal. There’s too much at stake. Everything’s at stake.

  “Unfortunately, I’m not sure that’ll be enough,” Shane says, looking right at me before turning to Clive. “I may need to rethink my strategy. I’m afraid another agency might be better suited.”

  What? My mouth drops open. We can’t lose this account. What is he doing? It’s not like he didn’t know I was here. So why go to all this trouble just to walk? He’s already walked on me once.

  I don’t need a repeat performance.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Truth Is Ugly

  “TWO MORE SKINNY MARGARITAS please,” Ellie says over the music.

  We’re perched at the bar at Champps; it’s a great place to catch a bite and a drink after work. It’s also connected to the Circle Center Mall, which is Tonya’s happy place. I left the office early, but didn’t have time to travel across town to Bates Art Supply, which is my happy place. So I borrowed hers.

  I’m still not happy.

  With my employment status now in question, shopping is out of the question. So, I played around in the fragrance department at Fossie’s instead. At the moment, I smell of floral and musk. I wouldn’t recommend this particular mixture.

  I glance over at the booth where Bradley s
its with Clive. When he called, I told him I was meeting the girls for drinks and he mistook it as an open invitation. What was I going to say?

  It’s fine. Whatever. That’s why we’re hanging out at the bar.

  “I hate this.” I shake my head. I’ve already told Ellie the whole stupid story of me and Shane and the presentation fiasco, at least the highlights. I left out how completely unraveled I am. “I mean, what are the odds? What do I say to Bradley?” I ask the bartender who is spending way too much time at our end of the bar.

  He shrugs.

  “And oh my God, Ellie.” I palm my forehead, shaking it. “I basically required the Heimlich maneuver. So embarrassing.”

  Ellie nudges my shoulder. “It couldn’t have been that bad.”

  “It actually was that bad, Ellie-bell,” Tonya says from behind us. “What up, girlies?”

  Sniffing the air, Tonya pulls her lips up in distaste. “Ick, what is that smell?”

  I sigh and roll my eyes. “I was hiding out in fragrance at Fossie’s.”

  “Jeez, Kenz, that’s what they make the little sample papers for. Ugh.” She waves a hand in the air.

  I motion for the bartender to bring another round. “This one’s on her,” I say and point to Tonya. Taking a sip, I roll my shoulders, trying to loosen the tension in my neck.

  I glance briefly toward Bradley and Clive. I know they’re still devising a plan on how to close the deal. Truthfully, I feel responsible, like I botched things. But how was I supposed to know there was a movie theater thing? No one told me. And I can’t tell Bradley how I know Shane, at least not right now.

  Another sip and I turn to the door, exactly when Shane walks through. Of course. Our eyes meet. Yup, cue the music and kill me now.

  I gag on my margarita.

  “Jesus, are we going to start hacking again?” Tonya hits me on the back when I turn toward the bar.